


Life

by deedeeinfj



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 17:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeinfj/pseuds/deedeeinfj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Éowyn reflects on the year when she learned to live</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2004

"Éowyn."

She heard the soft, familiar voice, but her groggy mind didn't register it. With a small sound of protest, she frowned and turned her head away. Then her protest turned into the happy sigh of a woman woken by the man she loves, and the sigh hummed quietly from her lips to his.

"Good morning," he said in a caress of warm breath against her skin.

Her eyes opened to meet his grey ones. She smiled and laid a hand on his cheek, bringing him down to her for another kiss. "Faramir," she murmured. There was still a lovely, simple pleasure to be found in saying his name, as if it reminded her of everything he was. There would always be pleasure in thinking My before she spoke the name.

"Éowyn." He smiled, and she wondered if he ever thought the same thing. "Everyone will be thinking of your name today," he continued, tracing her face with his fingers. "Everyone will be speaking it."

"I only want to hear you speaking it," she replied, absently wondering why everyone would be thinking of her on this day.

"Éowyn, Éowyn, White Lady of Rohan..."

"Of Ithilien," she corrected. Green Ithilien, with its forests and hills, not like the despairing desolation of Rohan. Not like Edoras, alone on its small mountain and stark in its towering separation from the plains. Not like herself as she had once been, dead inside like a rotted tree. Her taunt about "no living man" referred to more than her gender. Now she was a living thing rooted in Ithilien, spreading her arms to a welcoming sky, healing others just as Faramir's love had healed her - as it still coursed through her veins like a river in a desert.

"White Lady of Ithilien, Beloved of Faramir..."

"Mmmm." She curled herself against him, paying no heed to the sunlight that spilled into their room. "Tell me," she said quietly, laying her head on his shoulder, "why everyone will be speaking my name today?"

His fingers slid into her hair, lifting strands and allowing them to fall slowly in transparent, gold curtains back to her skin. "Do you not know?" he asked quietly. "This is the day Middle-earth saw the last of the Witch King of Angmar."

Éowyn closed her eyes and shifted still closer to him. There could never be enough of his warmth against her. Especially now, when she suddenly felt the memory of despair wrapping itself around her heart. "This is the day I challenged Death to give me relief," she mused.

"But Death lost us," said Faramir. "One year ago tonight, he lost his hold on both of us, and we were brought back for each other."

She lifted her head and smiled at him with all the true happiness she had since discovered. "So many people saved us."

"Aragorn," he said, without trace of unease.

Éowyn did not allow the name to affect her; she was beyond that. "Pippin," she added. "Gandalf. Beregond. And Merry, the Halfling who brought the Nazgûl King to his knees." They were silent for some moments before Éowyn said, "And your brother."

The hand in her hair stilled. "My brother?"

"Yes," she replied, lowering her head back to his shoulder. "He saved Merry and Pippin, and they saved us. Boromir saved our lives."

Faramir made no answer, but his hand slid down to her rounded belly. He circled his palm gently over her skin, almost as if he wanted to touch the child inside her. "Do you want to know one of the reasons why I love you, Éowyn?" he asked finally.

She closed her eyes again, wishing to devote all her senses to touch and hearing. "Tell me," she said. She covered his hand with hers.

"Because every time I see you - even when we once talked in the Houses of Healing - I see the victory of life over death. When I first met you, you were almost dead. But even when you grieved because you still lived, you  _did_  live. One year ago, you wished for death, and now you carry our child. You spend your time bringing life and healing to others. Every day, I see more and more life in you... you smile once more each day than you did the day before."

"How can I help it, when you give me one more reason each day?"

Faramir laughed, and she loved the feel of it beneath her cheek. He shifted himself and hovered over her, watching her for some moments before he leaned to kiss her. "Let this be one of today's reasons," he whispered as his lips brushed her temple.

How could she have wanted to throw this away? How could she have wanted her body to turn to dust when now it held a healer, a wife, a mother? How could she have longed for death when she now thrilled to feel life growing inside her, warm life against her skin wherever his lips and fingers moved, "Life" spoken with a soft, contented laugh from her own lips? Yes, she lived.


End file.
